


Last Night a DJ Saved My Life

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2436908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t like when she got that way…she was too smart for that kind of behavior. Of course he was too smart for some of the things he did as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Night a DJ Saved My Life

**Author's Note:**

> This story came from a plot bunny named Stephanie who ate at my brain until I was writing like a speed demon. It’s the first story in a long time I picked up a gel pen and notebook for so I love it for that, and oh so many other reasons.

Hotch thought the guy said his name was Trent but he was far away and could have been lying. He also knew that Emily must have been genuinely interested because she introduced herself as Emily. She never used her real name in bars; she was either Cassandra or Rachel. Hotch didn’t think either one of those names fit her but guys usually fell for it. They seemed to fall for anything. Of course the same could be said about the women in a bar on any given night. Still, this encounter seemed different and the FBI Agent watched with a profiler’s eye. 

 

“Trent” laid it on thick and Emily’s body language showed interest. There was laughter and some hand touching. Hotch hadn’t seen Emily laugh that way in a long time. Actually, he hadn’t seen her laugh that much at all. There were a few times when the real Emily Prentiss shone through, like that night in Vegas, but she remained reserved with her Unit Chief. She didn’t even know this guy…why did he get to see the other side of her?

 

“Go Em.” Garcia said, sipping on her emerald colored drink.

 

“Does she know that guy?” Hotch asked, glancing at the tech analyst. It was hard to tear his eyes away from what was happening across the bar.

 

“If she doesn’t, she will soon. I keep telling her she has to work the room…she’s a hottie. About time she took my advice.”

 

“Emily does not need to work the room.” Hotch replied.

 

“She sure doesn’t,” Garcia said. “The guys usually flock to her. Did I mention she’s a hottie? Still, she’s special, not just any guy will do.”

 

“That’s for sure.” Hotch mumbled.

 

“I enjoy watching her work the room.” Dave said. “I could watch her work it all day long.”

 

Hotch rolled his eyes and went back to watching Prentiss. She was heading back to the table wearing a big grin. She put Hotch’s Cherry Coke down and sipped her beer.

 

“Sorry about the delay…I was waylaid.”

 

“I saw.” Hotch said.

 

“He could way my lay anytime.” Garcia said. “Who is he?”

 

“Trent Carpenter, he works for the Secret Service. I've seen him around.”

 

“He seemed quite interested in you.” Dave said.

 

“Really? I don't know,” Emily smiled again. “I mean he’s handsome and funny but…”

 

“But what?” Garcia asked. “Those are two very good attributes.”

 

“Well…”

 

“He could be a serial killer.” Hotch cut Emily off.

 

“I wasn’t going to go that far, Hotch.”

 

“How many cases have we had where women get charmed by charismatic men in bars and are never heard from again?”

 

“A good amount but I didn’t get that vibe from Trent.” She replied.

 

“You don’t even know him.”

 

“No, but I'm a profiler too, Hotch. I can sniff game from a mile away. OK, he was lying about running the Boston Marathon two years in a row but I doubt he has a torture chamber in his Adams-Morgan basement.”

 

“I think you should stay away from him.”

 

“I think you should mind your business, sir.” Emily drank down half of her beer. “C'mon Garcia, lets get a shot and dance. I love this song.”

 

Garcia nodded, sliding out of the semi-circular booth when Rossi stood up. He sat back down, watching both women walk away. They were so beautiful, in completely different ways, and tonight the men noticed. Penelope, always a stand out, looked great in a flaming red dress and matching platform heels. Emily was more subdued but no less appealing in grey slacks and a maroon shirt that criss-crossed her breasts and gave just the slightest peek of her torso. All they needed was a redhead, even if she wore a potato sack, and it would be a party Rossi would give a vital organ to be invited to.

 

“That was dumb.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Hotch sipped his drink, looking around the bar and pretending to listen to Depeche Mode.

 

He didn’t even want to go out tonight but they dragged him. It was Absinthe, the bar they always enjoyed. He needed to get out and stop being so anti-social. No one used the word anti-social, but Hotch knew what they meant from the looks on their faces. He was their leader, ready to lead them to hell and back…he should lead them in a good time as well. Hotch finally relented. They were there for about a half hour before splitting up.

 

Morgan was off to impress the large female crowd. JJ hit the dart boards to take down the suckers, and there were plenty. Even Reid found a table of younger agents and cadets having an in-depth discussion about Doctor Who and the existence of God. They couldn’t wait to make space for the genius. There was still a good time, mostly recognizable music, and interesting conversation at the table with Rossi, Garcia, and Prentiss. 

 

Trent, or whatever his name was, blew that to hell. Out on the dance floor, Hotch watched him go in for the kill to a Michael Jackson song. He really hated 80s night, almost as much as he hated Trent touching Emily’s hips. If he didn’t have two left feet Hotch would have cut in.  _And then what_ , he thought. Nothing. He needed to shake these feelings; he didn’t like them at all.

 

“Emily is an intelligent woman, Aaron. Surely she has been beating off the advances of men since puberty. It’s not fair to insinuate that she can't handle herself.”

 

“I did not…I never said that, Dave.”

 

“It’s not always what we say but how we say it. You made it seem as if she couldn’t distinguish between a guy hoping to get lucky and a serial killer.”

 

“Men these days can be sharks, especially these men. I was well within my right to express concern.”  
  
“It didn’t sound that way to me.” Dave said.

 

“Well, you heard wrong.” Hotch sighed. “Look, Garcia was nearly shot to death by some attractive maniac who told the right story. We could’ve lost her. I don’t ever want that to happen to Emily. Do you?”

 

“Garcia turned that creep down.” Rossi replied.

 

“What?” Hotch looked at him hard. He was already tired of the conversation but there was nowhere to escape. He didn’t know anything about Doctor Who, darts, or dancing.

 

“Garcia turned down Baylor initially; she followed her first instinct. Then she talked to Morgan, and while I'm not privy to the entire conversation, he made her feel as if a very attractive man wouldn’t find her appealing. Surely that’s not what he said but that’s what she felt. So Garcia changed her mind and called Baylor back. She was hurt by the guy she loves most and decided to get back at him. She ran right into harm’s way.”

 

“Prentiss doesn’t love me.”

 

“You're not hearing me on purpose. That drives me nuts.”

 

“I hear you, Dave.” Hotch muttered.

 

“Do you?”

 

Hotch looked his longtime friend in the eye and gave a solemn nod.

 

“I hear you.”

 

“Then fix it.”

 

“Woo, now that was fun.” JJ collapsed in the booth beside Rossi. She grabbed his bourbon, took a healthy sip, and savored it.

 

“Did you leave them with anything, Jennifer?” Rossi asked. “I saw wallets emptying all the way over here. You got them on payday.”

 

“I said I didn’t want to play for money; just the love of the game. You know how men can be. First they cajole, and then they're more insistent. So I sent them home crying to their mamas.”

 

“To the tune of…?” Hotch asked.

 

“$250 and two rounds of beer.” She sat up some and grinned.

 

“Gambling is illegal in the District of Columbia.” Her Unit Chief replied.

 

“Arrest me sir,” JJ held out her hands. “But careful because my wrists are sensitive.”

 

“How about a beer for the champion?” Dave asked.

 

“Yes. Corona with lime would be excellent.”

 

“Coming right up.” 

 

Hotch stood for Dave to come out of the booth and head to the bar. JJ looked at him.

 

“You're having a good time, right?” she asked. “We brought you out to have a good time.”

 

“I'm fine.”

 

“That doesn’t exactly answer the question.”

 

Hotch smiled a little and JJ returned it. She surely wouldn’t push but remembered seeing him on a dance floor once or twice. It wasn’t pretty but she wondered what it would take to get him out there tonight. They were all concerned about him.  His divorce was final and all he did was work. City after city, case after case…the BAU was his life. 

 

There wasn’t much down time; they all felt the pinch. JJ feared if Hotch didn’t let go once in a while he was going to explode. Ever since New York she saw it building. Garcia and Prentiss got back to the table before Rossi. They were laughing and still bopping to the music, which was now The Pretenders. Hotch knew this band; he loved this band.

 

“Were you victorious?” Garcia asked.

 

“Not as much as you two.” JJ replied. “Who were the admirers?”

 

“Trent and Lucas.” Emily said. “They had rhythm too.”

 

“You know what they say about the way a guy moves his pelvis.” Garcia added.

 

“No Penelope, what do they say?” Hotch asked.

 

All three women looked at him. They fell into that infectious laughter that only a group of happy women can produce. It was truly a phenomenon.

 

“Tell him Peaches,” Garcia pointed at Emily. “Tell him what they say.”

 

“No way,” Emily shook her head, unable to control her laughter.

 

Hotch hated wondering if she was laughing at the original joke or him. He was saved by Rossi’s return with beer and Derek from his adventure in the crowds. Standing behind Emily and Garcia, he slipped his arms around their waists.

 

“Now I'm a happy man.” Morgan said grinning.

 

“Yeah, but there are 50 or so pissed off women glaring at us.” Emily replied.

 

“They’ll get over it.” Penelope said.

 

“If we could tear Reid away,” JJ said. “It might look like we all came together.”

 

“We lost him to Doctor Who.” Dave said. “Don’t ask me because I don’t know what that’s about.”

 

“I hate to break up the party but I'm probably going to head out.” Emily said. That led to a chorus of groans from her teammates. “Oh no, no, no, I will not be moved. I have a very nice buzz and I haven’t had 8 hours of sleep since I graduated from Yale. My bed is calling.”

 

“Alone?” Derek asked.

 

“You offering, stud?”

 

“Back off, you.” Garcia said.

 

That caused more laughter. Hotch cleared his throat.

 

“I'm going to head out as well, Prentiss.” He said. “I can give you a ride.”

 

“No thanks.” She answered quickly.

 

“It’s not a problem; I know you carpooled.”

 

“I can catch a cab.”

 

“Don’t be silly.”

 

“Now I'm silly?”

 

“That’s not what I meant.” Hotch bit the inside of his jaw. If she was going to be that way she could walk for all he cared. He didn’t like when she got that way…she was too smart for that kind of behavior. Of course he was too smart for some of the things he did as well.

 

“Mommy, daddy, please don’t fight.” Dave said.

 

Emily looked at Dave and smiled.

 

“I have to use the ladies room.” she said, not looking at Hotch again.

 

“Alright, you do that and then we’ll go.”

 

“Fine.” She was already walking away.

 

“That’s how you get the ladies, Hotch,” Morgan said. “Wear them down.”

 

JJ and Garcia followed Emily while Rossi wondered aloud why women do that.

 

“So they can either talk about how much they love us or how much we suck.” Derek replied.

 

“I think it’s a lot of both.” Hotch said.

 

***

 

“I thought you liked rain.” Hotch said when Emily groaned.

 

“I do, except we’re walking in it with no umbrellas since you decided to park in Timbuktu.”

 

“You try finding a parking space for a truck in Georgetown on a Thursday night. This is America’s three day weekend town.

 

“Whoa.” Emily stopped walking.

 

“What's the matter?”

 

“I just had déjà vu.” Emily looked at him intently, tilting her head to the left. “Have we had this conversation before?”

 

“I don't think so.”

 

“Think hard…this is important.”

 

“Emily, we’re getting wet.” He took gentle hold of her arm and led her down the street. “I can walk and think; I do it all the time. I'm pretty positive we’ve never had this conversation before.”

 

“I could’ve sworn…”

 

“Déjà vu is a trick of the mind. Also, people frequently say the same thing; have similar sentence structure in conversations. It rains a lot in DC; I may have said it before.”

 

“Maybe.” Emily mumbled. She seemed distracted and removed herself from Hotch’s hold. “How far is the car?”

 

“At the end of the next block.” Hotch replied.

 

“Aww man, Hotch.”

 

“I'm sorry.” He was nearly smiling.

 

“You are not sorry, look at you, you're grinning. You're not sorry, Aaron Hotchner, you're evil. I should’ve taken a cab. Door to door service, you know.”

 

“For a price.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

They were quiet as they crossed Olive Street.

 

“Prentiss?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I never meant to insinuate that you were silly or ignorant. I just…”

 

“Its fine.” She replied.

 

“It’s absolutely not fine and you know it.”

 

“OK, it’s not fine. That doesn’t mean I want to overanalyze it to death. Ahh, finally.”

 

Hotch took the alarm off the truck with a key remote and then opened the passenger door for Emily. She climbed in, he shut it behind her. Cars were driving down the street so he had to wait before getting into the driver’s seat.

 

“Do you mind if I indulge in a dirty habit?” she asked.

 

 _Say that to the right guy and you might get kissed_ , Hotch thought though he said nothing. Finally he just nodded, cracking the window some. Emily pulled a clove from her sterling silver cigarette case as Hotch started the ignition. A song was just ending on the radio; the voice of the DJ came over the speakers. ‘ _Emily, he wants to tell you how he feels about you but he doesn’t have the nerve just yet. He knows you love Elton John, and this song pretty much sums it up for him. Enjoy it and have a great night_ ’. The music cued up for _Tiny Dancer_ ; Emily sat frozen with one of those expensive cloves dangling from her lips.

 

_Blue jean baby, L.A. lady_

_Seamstress for the band_

_Pretty eyes, pirate’s smile_

_You married a music man_

_Ballerina, you must have seen her_

_Dancing in the sand_

_Now she’s in me, always with me_

_Tiny dancer in my hand._

 

“Oh my God,” Emily said breathlessly, lighting her cigarette. She put her hand over her heart. “Oh my God, I love this song. Hotch, I love this damn song.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“Don’t say it like that.”

 

“Like what?” he asked.

 

“Like you dedicated it to me.”

 

“The DJ said Emily…I heard him as clear as a bell. My hearing is much better these days then it used to be.”

 

“Just drive.” She said, rolling her eyes.

 

“Yes, ma'am.” He backed up the Silverado, put it in drive and drove out of the parking space. The usual congestion of traffic, combined with the weather, could make the 20 minute drive to The Watergate Condos last at least 35. The ride was mostly quiet. There was the constant swish of the windshield wipers and the radio. Carly Simon replaced Elton John. Then Chicago came on, followed by CSNY, Carole King, Linda Ronstadt, and Hall and Oates.

 

“This is a good station.” Emily said. She plucked her clove out of the window before pushing it up.

 

“They play the 60s and the 70s.” Hotch replied. “Some early 80s as well but it’s mostly the softer side from nine to two.”

 

“I’ll look into it.”

 

“I’d really like to clarify what happened back there.”

 

“Back where?”

 

“With Trent.”

 

“I wouldn’t.”

 

“I was out of line, Emily, and you were right to tell me it was none of my business. It’s just that in our line of work…maybe I'm getting too jaded. Any man would find you beautiful and intriguing. I didn’t mean to infer that Trent might be a weirdo because of that.”

 

“He was nice; we had fun. I'm not planning our wedding, Hotch.”

 

“I know. I apologize again for putting a damper on your good time.”

 

“Apology accepted.”

 

“Are you sure?” he looked at her while they were stopped at a red light.

 

“Yes, Hotch.” Emily laughed a bit. “What do you want me to do, pinky swear?”

 

“It might make me feel better.”

 

Emily wasn’t in the mood to make him feel better. But she held out her pinky anyway. Hotch hooked his in hers and shook. He pulled away, putting his hand back on the steering wheel and his foot on the gas. A few minutes later he double parked in front of her large building. Billy Joel sang _She’s Always a Woman_ on the radio.

 

“This would’ve been an expensive cab ride.” He said.

 

“Yeah, lucky you put your foot down on giving me a ride.”

 

Hotch nodded. He wanted to say so much but instead said nothing. That was probably the best.

 

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emily said.

 

“Good luck with getting those eight hours.”

 

“Thanks. First, I'm going to put the kettle on and grab my big mug. I want a cup of chamomile tea. I love the happy buzz but a girl can't sleep with it. You have to be drunk or sober.”

 

“That sounds like a nice way to end a rainy night.”

 

“Yeah,” Emily nodded. “Would you like to come up? I have two really big mugs.”

 

“I probably shouldn’t.” Hotch said.

 

“Of course. Goodnight, Hotch; thanks for ride.”

 

Emily climbed out of the truck, dodging raindrops to the curb and over to the building. Hotch pushed the window before she got there.

 

“Prentiss?”

 

“Yeah?” she walked back to the curb. The chilly rain didn’t bother her…she could warm up inside.

 

“A rain check?” he asked.

 

“I'm sorry?”

 

“I’d like a rain check, for the tea.”

 

“OK.” Emily nodded. “Tell me when and where, Agent Hotchner, and I’ll be there.”

 

“I will.” Hotch smiled. “Have a good night.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

He watched her disappear inside before driving back into the heavy traffic.  Stevie Nicks sang about being afraid of changing as Aaron Hotchner thought of ways to have much more than tea with Emily Prentiss.

 

***

                                                                                                                                             

  
 


End file.
